


Henry's Tale

by LaughtersMelody



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Animal's POV, Dog's POV, Gen, Henry's Backstory, Humor, One Shot, The Crew of Station 51
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughtersMelody/pseuds/LaughtersMelody
Summary: Henry the Basset Hound tells a little bit of his own story, and provides a dog's-eye view of the men of Station 51. One-Shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written purely for fun, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always, I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.

** Henry's Tale **

It's the sound of the Great Howl that wakes me.

I'm used to it - it is, after all, the duty of my pack to obey that Howl. Still, I can't stop a yawn from escaping as I raise my head and listen to the others hurry from the inner den where they sleep.

A moment later, I hear the Alpha's answer to the Great Howl, and then there's familiar growl of the machines as they stir from their own slumber. Soon, they're howling as well, and the sound fades quickly into the distance.

I listen for a while longer, then lay my head back down between my paws.

I want to sleep more, but I know that I won't - not right away. Maybe not until the rest of my pack returns, though it's hard to say how long that will be.

Every fight with the Monster is different.

I saw the Monster once myself, you know. I was only a pup then, but I'll never forget it. It happened on the farm where I was born. My mother, brothers and sisters and I were staying in a nice, cozy barn that was full of interesting smells. It was a good life, a simple life, really, and well, to a pup like me, that barn seemed like the greatest place in the whole world. Then, one night, the Monster appeared. It was bright and hot and filled the air with so much smoke that it seemed like the only scents left were charred wood and burning straw.

My mother tried to get us to safety, but we're not like some of our cousins - we don't have very long legs and we're not very fast runners. Hard as she tried, she just wasn't able to reach all of us, and I was one of the pups that got left behind. We could hear our mother barking for us, frantically trying to get back inside, and we all barked back, but we were too scared to move because the Monster was getting closer.

I thought that was the end then, I really did.

It might have been, if it weren't for the humans who saved us.

It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen with my own two eyes. One minute, the Monster was creeping towards us, devouring everything in its wake, and the next it was retreating in the face of two men who were wearing hard, black hats, strange masks, and soot-covered coats. They held a bigger version of the hose that the farmer used to fill the water troughs, and they sprayed that hose at the Monster, making it hiss and shrink back.

Another member of their pack appeared, and he gently picked me up, cradling me in his arms and carrying me back outside into the fresh air. He looked me over to make sure that the Monster hadn't hurt me, then gave my head a quick pat and set me down beside my mother. One by one, he and a few others brought out all of my brothers and sisters. You should have heard my mother barking then.

She didn't want to let us out of her sight for a while after that. Not that I blame her. Thankfully, though, the rest of my puppy-hood wasn't nearly as eventful, and that was just fine by me. I'm not really one for excitement. Never have been.

Give me a long nap over a game of fetch any day.

Unfortunately, when I was finally old enough to be given into the care of another pack, that's what they wanted: a dog who would play fetch. It was a young pack, with a litter of three pups. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mind pups, but I prefer them in small doses. And these pups, they loved to tug on my ears and my tail. Plus, if they found me napping in the afternoon, they would wake me up with annoyed barks and pull me out of bed.

So, when their pack finally decided that I just didn't fit in, I can't really say that I minded it.

My next pack wasn't much of a pack at all. There was only one other member, an old man who liked to sleep in the afternoons just like me. He was nice. His bark for me was "you lazy mutt," and he gave me lots of belly rubs. I stayed with him for a long time, and I would have been content to stay with him even longer, but one day, he took a nap and he just wouldn't wake up, no matter how much I licked his face.

That's how I knew he was gone.

I didn't leave his side until a strange group of humans came to take him away, and I mourned him in the way that seemed best: I curled up on his bed and took many naps in his honor.

It wasn't long before another young pack came to get me from the old man's den. They smelled a little like him, so I'm pretty sure they were part of his line. That alone might have been reason enough to give them a chance, except that they had five pups of their own. _Five pups_. My ears and tail hurt just thinking about it.

And, let me be honest - by that point, my own puppy-hood was far behind me and I was pretty set in my ways. I had my routine and I liked it.

I didn't want to change it.

So, the first chance I had, I struck out on my own to find a different pack, one - preferably - that wouldn't mind if I napped the afternoon and evening away.

Unfortunately, I'd spent most of my time in the old man's den, and I wasn't familiar with the rest of his territory, so I had no real idea where to go. I was just wandering. Walking. I walked such a long way, in fact, that my paws ached. And, you know, the funny thing is, I couldn't tell you what I was looking for. I was just sure that I would know it when I found it.

I did.

It was a scent I caught on the breeze, and it was very faint at first, but I would have recognized it anywhere.

Smoke.

It wasn't the harsh, acrid smell of fresh smoke, though. No, this was duller…faded, like the scent had settled in somewhere and stayed. There were other layers to the scent, too, something metal, and…I took another sniff…something wet.

I _knew_ that scent.

It was burned into my memory as surely as the Monster that had burned down my puppy-hood home. It was the scent of the pack that had saved me.

After that, I just followed my nose, and it led me right to their den.

Just so that you don't think I'm some sort of ill-mannered barbarian, I know that entering another pack's den without permission is terribly rude, and my mother would have nipped my nose if she knew that I'd done it. But I was so tired from my walk that I did just that. When the front of the den opened, and two great machines came out howling, I went right in.

Any other day, I would have taken the time to explore, because I was pretty sure that I'd never smelled so many interesting scents in once place before, not even the barn where I grew up. But right then, all I wanted to do was sleep. So, I made my way to the first soft surface I saw and laid down. I felt a little bad about that - it didn't smell like any one pack member had claimed this bed yet, so at least I wouldn't be stepping on anyone's paws, but it was yet another breach of etiquette that would have gotten me a stern barking-to as a pup.

Still, I was too tired to even think of moving, and I drifted off to sleep right there, hoping that the pack wouldn't see my rudeness as a reason to turn me out on my tail.

Much to my relief, they welcomed me instead, and they even chose a new bark to call me by. It was actually a variant of the Alpha's own bark - a great honor indeed, though he didn't seem entirely pleased when his pack first suggested it. He allowed it, though, so long as they did not call me by the bark that signifies him alone.

Their den has been my home ever since.

It's an interesting place to live, that's for sure. The den is shared by three sub-packs, though they all belong to a much larger pack, which is why they're able to share the den without fighting over it.

I like all the packs, I do, but I have to admit that I have a soft spot for the pack that found me first, the ones who accepted me and gave me my new bark. I've even given them new barks in return.

The first member of the pack I call Yip. He's a tall, lanky human with a build that reminds me of my distant cousins, the gray ones that are all sleek muscle and long legs. He's built for speed, just like they are. He's a lot more energetic than those quiet, stately dogs, though, and he's prone to bark loudly and often. That's what inspired me with his name, Yip, because sometimes he acts just like an overgrown pup.

Bark is next. He's quieter than Yip, and a little older too. (He and Yip don't smell or look like littermates, but that clearly doesn't matter to them, because where one goes, the other is sure to follow. Many times, Bark and Yip are called out together by the Great Howl, and the rest of the pack stays behind.) Bark is laid-back and usually friendly, though a little reserved sometimes. But he's easy to get along with, and not prone to growl at anyone unless he's really provoked. That's why I call him Bark - because his temperament is straightforward and solid.

Yowl…well, Yowl is a different story. He has curly fur on his head and a patch of coarse fur just below his snout. He's the sort who always wants to play, and he's not above nipping at others or getting their hackles up. (He picks on Yip a lot, probably because Yip is the youngest, and his annoyed barks are sometimes pretty high-pitched, making him sound even younger than he is.) I don't think that Yowl means any harm - he just likes to have fun. The rest of the pack doesn't always let him have his way, though, which is why I call him Yowl - because that's just how he sounds when he's been put in his place.

The fourth member of the pack I call Woof. He has dark fur on his head, and like Yowl, there's coarse patch of fur below his snout. He always smells of spices, and he's the one who prepares the tasty dish of meat that I like. Like Bark, he's usually very even-tempered, though once in a while, when he gets excited, he'll bark in strange, rolling words, which is why I decided to call him Woof, because he's sometimes a little hard to understand.

Ruff, though, Ruff is definitely the quietest of the whole pack. He always smells like the biggest of the machines, and he spends a lot of time watching what's going on around him, which I appreciate. (I also appreciate the tasty cooked bird he makes.) He's second to the Alpha, and the others know to listen when he barks, because it's bound to be important. That's why I call him Ruff, because what he says is always right to the point.

Last but not least is the Alpha. He's a good alpha, the kind that doesn't have to growl and bare his teeth to gain respect. He knows when the pack needs to relax, and when they need a heavy paw to keep them in line, and he manages to balance the two in the way that only the best alphas can. He doesn't set himself apart, either - he's willing to play and bark with everyone, and sometimes _he's_ the one acting like a pup. But, as soon as the sound of the Great Howl fills the den, there's no question who's in charge.

And there's no doubt in my mind - it's a good pack, and I'm lucky to be a part of it.

The low rumble of the big machines draws me from my thoughts, and I raise my head. I hear the door of the den open, and the growl of the machines dies down soon after that. My ears perk up as I listen, and my tail wags a little when I hear six distinct pairs of footsteps. After all, fighting the Monster is dangerous, and the pack doesn't always escape unscathed. Each of them has been hurt at least once, some worse than others. (Yip, especially, seems to have been the target of the Monster's wrath, because he's gone missing for long stretches and come back smelling like he's been forced to stay in the vet's den.) But tonight was obviously a good night, because they have all returned together, and the only smells lingering around them are smoke and charred wood.

They come in from the clearing where the machines are kept, and they look tired but satisfied, smudges of soot marking their faces.

It's Yowl who comes over to my bed to give me a quick rub between the ears. "Waiting up for us, were you, buddy?" he asks.

I blink at him in answer, then lay my head back down between my paws and close my eyes, feeling content. My pack beat the Monster once again, they've all returned safe, and none of them will mind if I go right back to sleep.

A dog like me couldn't ask for anything more.

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! I hope it made you smile!
> 
> Take care and God bless!
> 
> -Laughter


End file.
